Broken Justice: Two

The archer knew this city well. Even though her stride was shorter than Sabit’s, she held onto her lead as they zigzagged through the crumbled buildings and twisting alleyways of the once-grand city of Vert. Every time Sabit pulled close enough to seize her patched cloak, the woman would lurch through an adjacent archway or step over an unseen bit of rubble that caught Sabit’s shins and sent her staggering.
The brown skin of Sabit’s forehead shone with sweat by the time she came out of a maze of passageways to see her quarry dashing across a wide, open square. The archer had a substantial lead, but the spear woman broke into a sprint. Sabit drew closer to the cloaked figure.
Bounding off a fallen, broken statue, the archer suddenly leaped into the air, spinning to face her pursuer. Sabit saw that the archer’s bow was already half-drawn. The spear woman dove and rolled as an arrow whizzed past her head.
The archer kept running, her shout echoing across the empty square. As Sabit rolled to her feet and rejoined the chase, she spotted her attacker’s destination: a doorway on the far side of the square, covered by a grate of iron bars. At that moment, the grate opened from within. She could see that the archer would reach the doorway before Sabit could overtake her.
Shifting her stance, Sabit used the momentum from her sprint to launch her spear into the air. Although it had not been crafted as a javelin, the spear soared in a low arc. Sabit’s only weapon and the cloaked woman disappeared into the doorway in the same instant.
The iron grate closed, locking Sabit away from both of them.

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Wayfarings of Sabit: Isle of the Wicked is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/

Broken Justice: One

“Allamu!”
Sabit’s cry echoed through the labyrinthine expanse of abandoned stone buildings. Facades covered in cracks or ivy or both looked down upon the lone spear woman walking the empty street. To one side, a retaining wall had burst—rich soil sloped away from the crack, tangles of thornbush spreading from its surface. A score or more of tiny, grey birds chattered among the thorns—their harsh, sniping calls reminding Sabit of the last words she had exchanged with Allamu. Would those words of anger—cutting and hot—be the last she ever spoke to the man from Urom?
With an explosion of fluttering wings the birds launched into the air. Instinct heeding instinct, Sabit leaped in the same instant behind the remains of a collapsed stone column. An arrow buzzed through the air where Sabit had just trod, striking the ground a hand’s breadth from where she now crouched.
Making her way along the uncollapsed side of the retaining wall, Sabit peeked over the top. Huddled behind the thorns was a short figure in a heavily-patched cloak. Nocking another arrow, the cloaked figure raised her head above the thorns in search of her quarry.
Sabit worked her way quickly to the far side of the overgrown garden. She was nearly in position to hurl her spear at the attacker when the masonry beneath her sandals began to crumble. At the first sound of stone, the archer leaped the thorn bush and sprinted down the street. Sabit cleared the thornbush three heartbeats later.
The chase was on.

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Wayfarings of Sabit: Isle of the Wicked is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/